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THE 

SILVER  ARROW 

BY  ELBERT  HUBBARD 


„  a,  4 


PRINTED 

BY  THE  ROYCROFTERS  AT 
EAST  AURORA,  N.  Y. 


Copyrighted  1923 
By  The  Roycrofters 


C-fB 

£)&3h3 


THE  SILVER  ARROW 


w 


And  so  it  happened  that  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh,  the  graceful,  the  gracious,  the 
generous,  had  spread  his  cloak  in  the 
pathway  of  Queen  Elizabeth  and  had  been 
taken  into  her  especial  favor. 

The  Queen  was  nineteen  years  older  than 
Sir  Walter;  that  is  to  say,  she  was  in  her 
fifties,  and  he  was  in  his  thirties. 

But  Queen  Bess  hated  old  age,  and  swore 
a  halibi  for  the  swift  passing  years,  and 
always  delighted  in  the  title  of  the  “Vir¬ 
gin  Queen.” 

Sir  Walter  did  one  great  thing  for  England, 
and  one  for  Ireland.  He  taught  the  Eng- 


5  fc- 


lisli  the  use  of  tobacco,  and  he  discovered 
the  “  Irish  potato  ” — which  is  native  to 
America. 

They  do  say  that  Sir  Walter  and  Queen 
Elizabeth  enjoyed  many  a  quiet  smoke 
with  their  feet  on  the  table — so  as  to 
equalize  circulation.  Both  of  them  were 
big  folk,  with  plans  and  ambitions  plus. 
Sir  Walter  was  contemporary  with  Shake¬ 
speare,  and  in  fact  looked  like  him,  acted 
like  him  and  had  a  good  deal  of  the  same 
agile,  joyous,  bubbling  fertility  of  mind. 
That  is,  Sir  Walter  and  William  were 
lovers  by  nature;  and  love  rightly  exer¬ 
cised,  and  alternately  encouraged  and 
thwarted,  gives  the  alternating  current, 
and  Jo!  we  have  that  which  the  world 
calls  genius.  And  I  am  told  by  those 
who  know,  that  you  can  never  get  genius 
in  any  other  way. 

6  Ja- 


Good  Queen  Bess — who  was  not  so  very- 
good — fanned  the  ambitions  of  Sir 
Walter  and  flattered  his  abilities.  And  of 
course  any  man  born  in  a  lowly  station,  or 
high,  would  have  been  immensely  com¬ 
plimented  by  the  gentle  love-taps,  and 
sighs,  vain  or  otherwise,  not  to  mention 
the  glimmering  glances  of  the  alleged 
Virgin  Queen. 

But  a  good  way  to  throttle  love  is  to  spy 
on  it,  question  it,  analyze  it,  vivisect  it. 
And  so  Sir  Walter’s  bubbling  heart  had 
chills  of  fear  when  he  discovered  that  he 
was  being  followed  wherever  he  went  by 
the  secret  emissaries  of  Elizabeth. 

Had  he  been  free  to  act  he  would  have  dis¬ 
posed  of  these  spies,  and  quickly  too;  but 
he  was  in  thrall  to  a  Queen,  and  was  pay¬ 
ing  for  his  political  power  by  being  de¬ 
prived  of  his  personality.  Oho,  and  Ohol 

■4  7 


y 


The  law  of  compensation  acted  then  as 
now,  and  nothing  is  ever  given  away; 
everything  is  bought  with  a  price — even 
the  favors  of  royalty. 

And  behold!  In  the  palace  of  the  Queen, 
as  janitor,  gardener,  scullion  and  all- 
around  handy  man  was  one  John  White, 
obscure,  and  yet  elevated  on  account  of 
his  lack  of  wit. 

He  was  so  stupid  that  he  was  amusing. 
Sayings  bright  and  clever  that  courtiers 
flung  off  when  the  wine  went  around  were 
imputed  to  John  White.  Thus  he  came  to 
have  a  renown  which  was  not  his  own; 
and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  with  his  cheery, 
generous  ways,  attributed  many  a  quiet 
quip  and  quillet  to  John  White  which  John 
White  had  never  thought  nor  said. 

Now  John  White  had  a  daughter,  Eleanor 
by  name,  tall  and  fair  and  gracious, 

8  |s~ 


bearing  in  her  veins  the  blood  of  Vikings 
bold;  and  her  yellow  hair  blew  in  the 
breeze  as  did  the  yellow  hair  of  those  con¬ 
querors  who  discovered  America  and 
built  the  blockhouses  along  the  coast  of 
Rhode  Island. 

Doubtless  in  his  youth  John  White  had  a 
deal  of  sturdy  worth,  but  a  bump  on  the 
sconce  at  some  Donnybrook  Fair  early  in 
his  young  manhood  had  sent  his  wits  a 
woolgathering. 

But  the  girl  was  not  thus  handicapped; 
her  mind  was  alert  and  eager. 

The  mother  of  Eleanor  had  passed  away, 
and  the  girl  had  grown  strong  and  able  in 
spirit  through  carrying  burdens  and  facing 
responsibilities.  She  knew  the  limitations 
of  her  father  and  she  knew  his  worth;  and 
she  also  knew  that  he  was  a  sort  of  un¬ 
official  fool  for  the  court,  being  duly 

-4  9 


installed  through  the  clever  and  heedless 
tongue  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

Who  would  ever  have  thought  that  Sir 
Walter,  the  diplomat,  the  strong,  the  able, 
was  to  be  brought  low  by  this  fair-haired 
daughter  of  John  White,  the  court  fool! 
“  You  are  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,"  said  this 
girl  of  nineteen  one  day  to  Sir  Walter 
when  they  met  squarely  face  to  face  in  a 
hallway.  It  was  a  bold  thing  to  do  to  stop 
this  statesman,  and  she  only  a  daughter  to 
a  court  fool,  and  herself  a  worker  below 
stairs ! 

Sir  Walter  smiled,  removed  his  hat  in  mock 
gallantry,  and  said,  “  I  have  the  honor 

to  be  your  obedient  servant.  And  who  are 

?» * 

The  girl,  bouyed  up  by  a  combination  of 
pride  and  fear,  replied,  “  I  am  Eleanor 
White,  the  daughter  of  the  man  whom 

•cj  10 


your  wit  has  rendered  famous.”  And  their 
eyes  met  in  level,  steady  look.  Fair  femin¬ 
inity  aroused  caught  the  eye  and  the  ear 
of  Sir  Walter. 

”  Yes,”  said  he,  ”  I  think  I  have  seen  you. 
And  what  can  I  do  for  you?” 

”  Only  this,”  said  Eleanor,  44  that  from 
this  day  forth  you  will  not  attribute  any 
more  of  your  ribaldry  to  my  father.” 
44  Otherwise,  what?”  asked  Sir  Walter. 
44  Otherwise  you  will  have  me  to  deal 
with,”  said  the  proud  Eleanor,  and  walked 
past  him. 

He  tried  to  call  her  back;  he  felt  humiliated 
that  she  did  not  turn  and  look,  much  less 
listen.  He  had  been  snubbed. 

The  banderilla  went  home,  and  the  next 
day  Sir  Walter  felt  that  he  must  hunt  out 
this  girl  with  the  yellow  locks  and  make 
peace  with  her,  for  surely  he  of  all  men  did 

-rj  ii 


not  want  to  hurt  the  feeling  of  any  living 
being,  neither  did  he  want  his  own  feelings 
hurt. 

So  he  sought  her  out,  and  that  which  be¬ 
gan  in  a  quarrel  soon  evolved  into  some¬ 
thing  else.  There  were  meetings  by 
moonlight,  notes  passed,  glances  given, 
hand-clasps  in  the  dark,  and  all  of  those 
absurd,  foolish,  irrelevant  and  unneces¬ 
sary  things  that  lovers  do. 

The  girl  was  not  of  noble  birth.  But  neither 
was  Sir  Walter,  for  that  matter.  Love 
knows  nothing  of  titles  and  position. 
But  how  could  these  two  ever  imagine 
that  they  could  elude  the  gimlet  eyes  of 
Good  Queen  Bess,  who  wasn’ t  so  very  good ! 
Queen  Elizabeth  had  ways  of  punishing 
that  were  exquisite,  deep,  delicate  and 
far-reaching,  which  touched  the  very 
marrow  of  the  soul. 


II 


Sir  Walter  had  been  presented  by  the 
Queen  with  a  title  to  all  the  land  in  Amer¬ 
ica,  from  Nova  Scotia  to  Florida;  and  he, 
in  pretty  compliment,  had  officially  named 
this  tract  of  land  Virginia. 

The  French  had  taken  possession  of  the 
New  World  at  the  North,  and  the  Span¬ 
iards  at  the  South,  and  along  the  coast  of 
what  is  now  North  Carolina  the  English 
had  planted  a  colony. 

It  was  the  intention  of  Sir  Walter  to  send 
expeditions  over  and  take  the  whole  land 
captive,  so  that  Virginia  would  in  fact  be 
the  land  of  the  Virgin  Queen. 

At  the  center  of  this  tract  along  the  coast 
was  to  be  the  city  of  Raleigh.  The  Queen 
and  Sir  Walter  had  worked  this  out  at 
length,  and  she  had  given  him  a  special 
charter  for  the  great  city  to  be. 

And  now  behold!  She,  with  the  mind  of 

13  fc- 


a  man,  had  perfected  her  plans  for  the 
building  of  the  city  of  Raleigh.  She 
planned  an  expedition,  and  fitted  out  the 
ships  with  sixty  men  and  women  from  a 
receiving-ship  that  lay  in  the  Thames. 
These  people  were  being  sent  out  of 
England  for  England’s  good.  And  these 
were  the  people  who  were  to  found  the 
city  of  Raleigh;  and  the  Governor  of  this 
colony  was  to  be — John  White!  he  was  to 
be  the  first  mayor,  Lord  Mayor,  of  the  city 
of  Raleigh. 

Queen  Elizabeth  had  selected  a  husband  for 
Eleanor  White,  an  unknown  youth — a 
defective,  in  fact,  and  one  without  moral 
or  mental  responsibility.  She  had  forced 
a  marriage,  or  in  any  event  had  recorded 
it  as  such.  The  youth  was  known  as 
Ananias  Dare.  Even  in  the  naming  of  this 
individual,  who  had  never  dared  anv- 

14  Js- 


thing,  the  name  “  Ananias  ”  carried  with 
it  a  subtle  sting. 

John  White  and  his  daughter  Eleanor, 
and  Ananias  Dare,  were  taken  forcibly 
and  put  on  the  ship,  which  was  duly 
provisioned,  and  the  order  given  to  found 
the  city  of  Raleigh  on  the  Island  of 
Roanoke  in  the  country  called  Virginia. 
A  suitable  sailor  was  selected  as  navigator, 
and  orders  were  given  him  to  land  the 
colonists,  and  come  back. 

And  so  the  expedition  sailed  away  for  the 
New  World;  and  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  in  the 
secret  of  his  room  beat  his  head  in  anguish 
’gainst  the  wall  and  called  aloud  for  death 
to  come  and  relieve  him  of  his  pain. 
And  thus  did  Queen  Elizabeth  dispose  of 
her  rival,  and  punish  with  fantastic  hate 
and  jealousy  the  man  she  loved. 

John  White,  Eleanor  and  Ananias  Dare, 

'4  15 


with  the  motley  group  of  unskilled  men 
and  women,  were  duly  landed  in  the 
forest  on  Roanoke  Island.  Battle  with  the 
elements  requires  judgment,  skill,  experi¬ 
ence,  and  these  were  things  that  our  poor 
colonists  did  not  possess. 

Two  weeks  after  landing  on  Roanoke 
Island  a  daughter  was  born  to  Eleanor. 
The  captain  of  the  ship  had  given  orders 
that  if  the  babe  was  a  boy  it  was  to  be 
named  Walter  Raleigh  Dare;  if  a  girl  the 
name  was  to  be  Virginia. 

And  they  called  the  child  Virginia  Dare, 
and  her  name  was  so  recorded  in  the 
history  of  the  colony.  She  was  duly 
baptized  a  week  later,  and  the  record  of 
her  birth  and  baptism  still  exists  in  the 
Colonial  Archives  in  London. 

This  was  the  first  white  child  born  in 
America. 


•sj  1 6  Jfc- 


Very  shortly  after  the  baptism  of  the  babe, 
the  captain  of  the  ship  sailed  away  for 
England,  leaving  the  colonists  in  their 
ignorance  and  helplessness  to  battle  with 
the  elements,  wild  beasts,  and  Indians  as 
best  they  could. 

We  can  imagine  with  what  cruel  delight 
Queen  Elizabeth  called  Sir  Walter  Raleigh 
into  her  presence  and  had  him  read  aloud 
to  her  and  the  assembled  court  the  record 
of  the  birth  of  Virginia  Dare. 

As  for  the  colonists,  their  days  were  few 
and  evil.  Dissensions  and  feuds  arose,  as 
they  naturally  would.  John  White  was 
deposed  as  Governor,  and  when  he  re¬ 
sisted  he  was  killed. 

The  idea  of  going  to  work,  tilling  the  soil, 
and  building  a  permanent  settlement  was 
not  in  the  hearts  of  those  people.  They 
expected  to  find  gold  and  silver  and 

<$  17 


fountains  of  youth.  They  felt  they  were 
marooned,  robbed  and  stranded.  The 
Indians,  at  first  fearful,  were  now  jealous  of 
these  white  intruders.  The  quarrel  came 
and  the  Indians  fell  upon  the  colonists 
and  killed  every  one.  Every  one,  did  I  say? 
There  was  one  saved;  it  was  the  little 
white  baby,  Virginia  Dare. 

She  was  rescued  by  a  squaw,  who  but  a 
short  time  before  had  lost  her  own  babe, 
and  her  hungry  mother  heart  went  out  to 
that  helpless  little  white  waif.  She  seized 
upon  the  child  and  carried  it  away  into 
the  forest  for  safety. 


-cj  1 8  Jfr 


■4  PART  TWO  fc- 

On  Thursday,  October  Twenty-ninth, 
Sixteen  Hundred  Eighteen,  at  the  Tower  of 
London,  the  curtain  fell  on  the  fifth  act 
of  the  life  of  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  It  was  a 
public  holiday  for  all  London. 

The  morning  was  cold  and  foggy. 

Sir  Walter  was  kept  standing  on  the 
scaffold  while  the  headsman  ground  his 
axe,  the  delay  being  for  the  amusement 
and  edification  of  the  people  assembled. 
The  High  Sheriff  approached  the  man 
who  was  so  soon  to  die,  and  asked  if  there 
was  not  some  last  message  he  wished  to 
send  to  some  one.  Sir  Walter  took  from  his 
neck  a  gold  chain  and  locket.  He  handed 
them  to  the  Sheriff  and  said,  “  Send  these 
by  a  trusty  messenger  to  Virginia  Dare  by 
the  first  ship  that  sails  for  the  New 
World.*' 


•d{  19 


Sir  Walter’s  frame  shook  in  the  cold, 
dank  fog,  and  the  Sheriff  offered  to  bring 
a  brazier  of  coals,  but  the  great  man 
proudly  drew  his  cloak  about  him  and 
said:  “It  is  the  ague  I  contracted  in 
America.  I  will  soon  be  cured  of  it!”  And 
he  laid  his  proud  head,  gray  in  the  service 
of  his  country,  calmly  on  the  block,  as  if 
to  say,  “  There  now,  take  that,  it  is  all  I 
have  left  to  give!’’ 

Among  the  crowd  that  pushed,  jostled, 
leered  and  looked  was  one  Oliver  Crom¬ 
well,  short,  swart  and  strong,  a  country 
youth  who  had  come  up  to  London  to 
make  his  fortune.  And  Oliver  Cromwell 
there  and  then  made  a  vow  that  he  would 
dedicate  his  life  to  the  death  of  tyranny. 
So  died  Sir  Walter  Raleigh. 

And  Oliver  Cromwell  went  forth  to  meet 
Fate  as  Destiny  had  willed. 

-dJ  2.0  Js- 


4  PART  THREE  fc- 

The  Indian  woman  who  rescued  Vir¬ 
ginia  Dare  was  Wahceta,  wife  of  Manteno, 
the  Croatoan  chief. 

This  Indian  woman  had  other  children  of 
her  own,  some  almost  grown  up,  and  when 
she  brought  this  little  white  waif  into 
their  midst  they  gazed  in  awe  and  wonder¬ 
ment,  and  exclaimed,  “  White  Doe!” 
And  this  was  the  name  given  by  common 
consent  to  the  little  intruder. 

Wahceta  cared  for  the  babe  as  if  it  were 
her  very  own. 

The  helplessness  of  the  little  guest  made 
an  appeal  to  Wahceta,  and  she  guarded 
her  charge  with  jealous  eyes,  and  a  love 
that  she  had  never  manifested  for  her  own 
children.  Manteno  looked  on  and  shrugged 
his  shoulders  in  half  token  of  fear,  for  a 
white  doe  was  a  thing  to  be  feared,  since 

2.1  fc- 


the  superstition  was  that  it  was  sent  by 
the  Great  Spirit  as  a  warning. 

Hunters  to  this  day  are  familiar  with  the 
occasional  appearance  of  a  white  deer — 
an  albino — one  of  Nature’s  sports,  like 
the  proverbial  black  sheep,  to  be  found  in 
every  flock  of  white  ones. 

The  Indians  regarded  a  white  doe  as  in¬ 
vincible  to  all  weapons  save  a  silver  arrow 
alone.  A  white  doe  bore  a  charmed  life, 
and  was  looked  after  with  especial  care 
by  protecting  spirits. 

And  so  in  wonder,  when  Wahceta  would 
walk  past,  bearing  on  her  back  the  white 
babe,  the  Indians  silently  made  way, 
feeling  somehow  that  they  were  close  to 
the  Great  Spirit. 

The  child  grew  and  learned  to  speak  the 
Croatoan  language  with  a  glibness  that 
made  Wahceta  laugh  aloud  in  glee. 

2.2. 


White  Doe  had  flaxen  hair,  that  glistened 
with  the  sheen  of  the  sunshine.  Very 
proud  was  Wahceta  of  those  yellow  locks, 
and  she  used  to  braid  them  in  long  strands, 
while  the  Indians  stood  around,  looking 
on,  having  nothing  else  to  do. 

One  day,  when  White  Doe  was  about  ten 
years  old,  she  went  away  into  the  forest  as 
she  often  did;  but  when  night  came  on 
she  had  not  returned.  Wahceta  went  out 
to  look  for  her,  and  called  aloud  in  shrill 
soprano,  but  no  reply  came. 

Manteno  was  appealed  to,  to  arouse  the 
braves  and  go  search  for  the  lost  little  girl. 
But  Manteno  was  tired  and  sleepy,  and  he 
had  faith  in  Providence.  He  knew  that  the 
child  would  be  cared  for  by  the  Great 
Spirit.  Wahceta  started  a  bonfire  on  the 
hill  above  the  village,  and  waited  away  the 
long  hours  of  the  night  for  her  lost  baby. 

•<  2.3 


In  the  morning,  just  as  the  sun  peeped  over 
the  tree-tops,  White  Doe  appeared,  her 
hair  all  wet  with  the  dew  of  the  night, 
and  her  feet  cut  and  bleeding. 

She  was  leading  and  half-dragging  some¬ 
thing — was  it  a  dog  or  a  wolf?  Wahceta 
sprang  forward  to  take  the  child  in  her 
arms.  “  Get  behind,  mother,  and  push,” 
said  little  White  Doe.  “  It ’s  a  white  doe 
and  I  ’ve  held  it  all  night  for  fear  it  would 
get  away!  Push  hard,  mother,  dear,  and 
we  will  get  it  in  the  teepee  and  tie  it  with 
green  withes,  and  it  will  become  gentle, 
and  bring  us  all  good  luck.” 

The  child  had  discovered  this  white  fawn 
with  its  mother,  feeding  near  a  salt-lick. 
White  Doe  lay  on  a  rock  above  the  spring, 
waiting  for  the  deer  to  come  up  close.  There 
the  girl  waited  for  hours.  She  knew  that 
at  dusk  the  deer  would  come  to  the  spring. 

•cj  2.4  Js. 


Sure  enough,  her  patience  was  suddenly 
rewarded.  She  leaped  from  her  rock  and 
pinned  the  white  fawn  fast.  The  old  deer 
disappeared  into  the  forest.  The  girl  held 
on  to  her  prize.  It  struck  her  with  its  fore¬ 
feet,  but  she  held  it  close.  By  and  by,  tired 
out,  the  fawn  lay  still  and  rested  entwined 
in  the  girl’s  arms.  Now  came  the  test — to 
get  it  home!  She  succeeded. 

In  the  teepee  of  Wahceta,  the  animal  was 
fed,  caressed  and  cared  for. 

It  grew  docile,  and  in  a  few  days  followed 
its  little  mistress  about  wherever  she  went. 
The  Indians  looked  on  in  half-dread,  with 
superstitious  awe. 

“  All  the  wild  animals  would  be  as  tame 
as  this  if  you  were  not  so  cruel  to  them,” 
she  said.  “  You  fear  the  wolves  and  bears 
and  so  you  kill  them!” 

To  prove  her  point  she  began  to  hunt  the 

-sj  2.5 


forests  for  young  bears  and  cub  wolves. 
She  found  several,  and  brought  them 
home,  making  household  friends  of  them. 
And  still  more  did  the  Indians  marvel. 
So  the  days  went  by  then,  as  the  days  go 
by  now,  and  White  Doe  grew  into  gor¬ 
geous,  glowing  girlhood. 

Her  ability  to  run,  climb,  shoot  with  bow 
and  arrow,  to  see,  to  hear,  to  revel  in 
Nature,  gave  her  a  lithe,  strong,  tall  and 
beautiful  form  and  an  alert  mind.  Of  her 
birth  she  knew  nothing,  save  that  she 
was  descended  from  another  race — a  race 
of  half-gods,  the  Indians  said.  White  Doe 
believed  it,  and  her  pride  of  pedigree  was 
supreme. 

The  other  children,  dark  as  smoked  copper, 
stood  around  clothed  in  their  black  hair 
— and  little  else — hair  as  black  as  the 
raven’s  wing. 


2.6  Js- 


Wahceta  watched  her  charge  with  fear 
for  the  future.  White  Doe  had  temper, 
intelligence,  wit,  ability.  She  would  roam 
the  forests  alone,  unafraid.  She  knew 
where  the  bee-trees  were,  for  even  as  a 
child  she  saw  that  the  bees  would  gather 
at  the  basswood,  and  then  loaded  with 
honey  would  fly  straight  away  for  their 
homes.  To  follow  them  in  their  flight 
required  a  practised  eye,  but  this  White 
Doe  had,  and  always  the  white  doe  fol¬ 
lowed  her.  She  wove  the  inner  bark  of 
the  slippery-elm  into  baskets,  and  would 
supply  the  teepee  of  Wahceta  and  Man- 
teno  with  more  berries,  potatoes  and  goo¬ 
bers  than  any  other  teepee  enjoyed. 

Then  she  laid  out  gardens  and  tilled  the 
soil  with  a  wonderful  wooden  hoe,  carved 
out  of  solid  hickory  with  her  own  hands. 
Wahceta  was  growing  old,  and  as  her 

27  }> 


sight  was  becoming  dim  White  Doe  would 
lead  her  about  through  the  forest  and 
care  for  her  as  Wahceta  once  cared  for 
White  Doe. 

The  work  of  looking  after  Manteno’s  tent 
drifted  by  degrees  into  the  hands  of  White 
Doe.  Her  industry,  her  thrift,  her  intelli¬ 
gence  set  her  apart. 

The  Indian  is  like  a  white  man  in  this: 
he  allows  work  and  responsibility  to 
drift  into  the  hands  of  those  who  can 
manage  them.  White  Doe  set  about  to 
build  stone  houses  to  replace  the  bark 
teepees.  Where  did  she  get  the  idea? 
Prenatal  tendencies  you  say?  Possibly. 
She  drew  pictures  with  a  burnt  stick  on  the 
flat  surface  of  the  cliff,  and  then  orna¬ 
mented  these  pictures  with  red  and  blue 
chalk  which  she  dug  from  the  ground. 
She  took  the  juice  of  the  grape,  the  elder 

-cji8  ]h- 


and  the  whortleberry,  and  brewed  them 
together  to  make  wondrous  colors  for  the 
pictures:  and  in  some  of  the  caves  of  North 
Carolina  may  be  seen  the  pictures,  even 
unto  this  day,  drawn  by  White  Doe. 
Wahceta  passed  away  and  her  form  was 
wrapped  in  its  winding-sheet  of  deerskins 
and  bark  and  placed  high  in  the  forks  of  a 
tree-top,  awaiting  the  pleasure  of  the 
Great  Spirit. 

Manteno  also  died.  And  the  people  did 
not  choose  another  chief — they  looked  to 
White  Doe  for  counsel  and  guidance.  She 
was  their  “  medicine-man,”  in  case  of 
sickness  or  accident,  and  in  health  their 
counselor  and  Queen.  Indians  from  other 
towns  and  distant  came  to  her.  She  cured 
the  sick  and  healed  the  lame. 

She  lived  alone  in  a  stone  hut,  guarded  by 
a  wolf  and  a  bear  that  she  had  brought 

19 


up  from  their  babyhood.  They  followed 
her  footsteps  wherever  she  went,  and  also, 
too,  came  the  white  doe,  fleet  of  foot, 
luminous  of  eye,  sensitive,  intelligent, 
seemingly  intent  on  carrying  the  messages 
of  her  mistress. 

White  Doe,  the  Indian  Queen,  with  long 
yellow  hair,  and  the  big,  mild,  yet 
searching  blue  eyes,  knew  her  power  and 
exercised  it. 

Indian  braves,  young  and  handsome, 
came  and  sat  on  the  grass  cross-legged  for 
hours,  at  a  discreet  distance  from  her 
hut,  making  love  to  her  in  pantomime. 
They  sent  her  presents  rare  and  precious, 
of  buckskins,  tanned  soft  as  velvet,  nuggets 
of  silver  strung  as  beads  and  strings  of 
wampum. 

These  braves  she  set  to  work  down  in  the 
bottom-lands.  It  is  said  that  no  other 


30  J* 


person  was  ever  able  to  set  the  male 
Indian  to  work.  But  for  her  the  braves 
built  stone  houses,  planted  gardens,  and 
laid  stepping-stones  across  the  fords,  so 
that  she  could  walk  across  dry-shod. 
The  nuggets  of  silver  that  they  brought 
her  from  the  mountains  she  fashioned  into 
an  exquisite  arrow  of  silver,  sharper  at  the 
point  than  the  sharpest  flint.  For  days  and 
weeks  and  months  she  worked  making 
the  silver  arrow. 

“  What  is  it  for?”  the  Indians  asked. 
”  It  is  to  help  me  when  all  other  help  is 
gone,”  she  said. 

And  the  Indians  were  silent,  mystified. 
She  planted  slips  of  grapes  brought  from 
the  sunny  slopes;  these  she  tended,  dug 
about,  trained  and  trimmed.  The  wonder¬ 
ful  Scuppernong  Grape  was  her  own 
evolution.  By  care  and  culture  it  covered 

31 


the  cabin  where  she  lived,  and  reached  out 
to  an  oak  a  hundred  feet  beyond. 

She  showed  the  Indians  how  to  double 
their  crops  of  corn,  how  to  grow  such 
melons  as  the  Indian  world  had  never 
before  known. 

She  taught  them  that  it  was  much  better 
to  work  and  produce  flowers,  grain,  grapes, 
and  make  pictures  on  the  rocks  than  to 
roam  the  woods  aimlessly,  looking  for 
something  to  kill. 

She  told  them  that  the  Great  Spirit  loved 
people  who  were  kind  and  useful,  and 
temperate  in  the  use  of  the  juice  of  the 
grape  and  in  all  other  good  things.  So  the 
Croatoans  advanced  and  grew  in  intelligence 
quite  beyond  any  of  the  other  Indian  tribes 
on  the  Atlantic  coast.  One  day  White 
Doe  sat  at  the  door  of  her  cabin,  under 
the  great  vine  where  hung  the  grapes. 

32 


She  was  intently  painting  a  picture  on 
buckskin. 

The  white  doe  was  nibbling  at  the  bushes 
only  a  few  feet  away. 

The  gray  wolf  crouched  at  her  feet  sud¬ 
denly  snarled,  and  the  hair  on  his  back 
arose  in  wrath. 

White  Doe  looked  up,  and  there  at  a  dis¬ 
tance  of  a  hundred  feet  stood  a  man — a 
pale  faced  man. 

He  saw  the  wolf,  and  stood  stock-still. 
White  Doe  looked  at  the  man,  and  sud¬ 
denly  her  heart  beat  fast.  She  felt  the 
color  mounting  to  her  face.  She  drew 
her  long,  yellow  hair  over  her  neck  and 
her  buckskin  dress  up  at  the  shoulder. 
The  man  motioned  for  her  to  come  to  him. 
Evidently  he  saw  the  wolf  and  dare  not  go 
forward.  She  arose,  pacified  the  wolf,  and 
slipped  forward. 


-4  33 


The  man  had  a  dark  beard,  but  his  com¬ 
plexion  told  her  that  they  were  of  the 
same  race. 

He  spoke  to  her  in  English. 

She  had  never  before  heard  a  word  of  the 
language  spoken. 

In  amazement  she  listened,  and  then  shook 
her  head. 

The  man  now  resorted  to  the  sign  lan¬ 
guage;  he  made  the  motions  of  paddling 
a  canoe,  and  pointed  toward  the  sea.  And 
then  she  knew  that  he  had  come  from  far 
across  the  sea  in  a  ship. 

He  took  from  one  of  his  pockets  a  chain  of 
gold;  and  attached  to  this  chain  was  a 
little  gold  locket. 

He  opened  the  locket  and  showed  her  a 
picture  inside.  On  the  locket  was  engraved 
the  words,  “  To  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  from 
his  Queen,  Elizabeth.” 

■4.  34  I5- 


White  Doe  saw  the  inscription,  but  she 
could  not  read  it. 

The  man  offered  to  put  the  chain  and  locket 
about  her  neck.  She  stepped  back,  and  the 
wolf  at  her  heels  snarled.  She  made  a 
motion  that  the  interview  was  ended  and 
that  the  man  should  go  to  see  the  Indians 
whose  houses  and  cabins  were  but  a  short 
distance  away. 

The  man  did  not  go.  Instead,  he  in  the 
universal  sign  language  took  off  his  hat, 
pressed  his  hand  on  his  heart,  and  fell 
on  one  knee.  He  motioned  to  the  East, 
away — away,  away  across  the  sea! 

Would  she  go  with  him? 

Proudly  she  shook  her  head,  half-smiled 
and  again  ordered  him  to  go. 

Her  manner  said  plainly  that  this  was  her 
home:  She  was  Queen  of  the  Croatoans — 
was  this  not  enough? 

35 


A  shade  of  anger  moved  across  the  man’s 
face.  He  was  used  to  having  his  orders 
obeyed.  He  moved  toward  her  as  if  he 
would  seize  her.  Now  it  was  her  turn  to 
stand  still.  The  wolf  leaped  to  her  side, 
and  across  the  intervening  space  from  the 
cabin  lumbered  a  big  black  bear. 

The  man  now  backed  slowly  away  some 
ten  paces,  and  then  he  lifted  a  gun  that  lay 
on  the  grass  where  he  had  left  it. 

Suddenly  a  score  of  white  men  emerged 
from  the  bushes. 

There  was  a  flash  of  fire,  a  loud  explosion, 
a  great  volume  of  white  smoke.  And  the 
wolf,  the  bear,  and  the  white  doe  all  fell 
weltering  in  their  blood. 

The  wolf  was  not  dead,  and  with  fierce 
snarls  tried  desperately  to  crawl  toward 
the  white  man.  One  of  the  men  ran  for¬ 
ward  and  beat  its  brains  out  with  a  club. 

-4  36  Js- 


The  Indians  came  rushing  from  their 
houses. 

There  was  another  flash  of  fire,  a  cloud  of 
smoke,  and  the  forward  Indian  fell  dead. 
The  rest  of  the  red  folks  fled  in  wild  alarm. 
White  Doe  stood  still,  her  yellow  hair 
blowing  in  the  sunshine.  Again  the  leader 
of  the  white  men  came  forward,  a  smile  of 
triumph  on  his  face.  His  manner  said  more 
plainly  than  any  words  could  express: 
“  You  are  in  my  power.  See!  I  have  killed 
your  protectors,  your  friends.  So  I  can  kill 
you.  You  must  come  with  me.” 

He  pressed  his  hand  to  his  heart  in  sign  of 
love. 

The  woman  backed  away  frojn  him,  her 
eyes  shooting  hatred  and  defiance. 

At  her  girdle  hung  the  silver  arrow.  Her 
hand  now  reached  for  it. 

The  man  leaped  forward  and  attempted  to 

A  37 


seize  her.  His  reach  fell  short,  for  the 
woman  was  quicker  and  quite  as  strong 
as  he.  She  flung  him  aside.  The  silver  arrow 
was  in  her  right  hand.  She  held  it  aloft 
like  a  dagger. 

The  man  retreated. 

“Coward,”  she  cried  in  Croatoan.  “Cow¬ 
ard!  It  is  not  for  you.  It  is  my  last  friend 
the  friend  that  has  been  waiting  to  save 
me  all  these  years!” 

The  arrow  flashed  in  the  air,  and  with  a 
terrific  lunge  went  straight  to  the  woman’s 
heart. 

She  leaped  into  the  air,  reeled  and  fell 
across  the  body  of  the  dying  doe.  And  the 
blood  of  the  two  friends  intermingled. 


3  8 


SO  HERE,  THEN,  ENDETH  THE  TALE  OF 
“THE  SILVER  ARROW,”  WRITTEN  BY  ELBERT 
HUBBARD,  AND  MADE  INTO  A  BOOK  BY  THE 
ROYCROFTERS,  AT  THEIR  SHOPS,  WHICH  ARE 
IN  EAST  AURORA,  COUNTY  OF  ERIE,  STATE 
OF  NEW  YORK,  ANNO  DOMINI,  NINETEEN 
HUNDRED  THIRTY-ONE,  AND  SINCE  THEIR 
FOUNDING  THE  THIRTY-SIXTH  YEAR  444 


